


this is how things start (a thunderbolt through the heart)

by executeGhost (textbookMobster)



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, First Crush, Fluff, Friendship is Magic, Gen, Hecate is the best matchmaker okay, Nightstar saves the day, Post S2, everyone is adorbs and nothing hurts, the Ethel redemption arc nobody asked for part 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 07:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/textbookMobster/pseuds/executeGhost
Summary: Mildred has a crush on someone,and it's really stupid, okay?





	this is how things start (a thunderbolt through the heart)

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Reese Lansangan's [Exploration No. 5](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0OsZsUWAjo).
> 
> This is a direct sequel to "Maud's Declassified School Survival Guide," although it isn't necessary to read it in order to understand this story.

Mildred Hubble likes to think that she's got things sorted out by now. Magic is finally beginning to make sense to her. She's found a tightknit group at school. Even Ethel Hallow has mellowed out a little, only sniping at her when she's in a foul mood. So why does it feel like there are bats in her stomach sometimes, or there's a pressure on her chest almost as if Tabby is smothering her in her sleep again?

"Oh, Millie-love, it sounds to me like you have a crush on someone," her mum tells her during one of their rare mirror-calls. 

"It's not like we have boys in our school, Mum," she grumbles, playing with one of her braids.

All she gets is a raised eyebrow and an all-too knowing smirk before Mum changes topics with parental ease, asking after her latest potions project and praising the quality of her notes. (Mildred loves being able to draw the potion ingredients now; she's always had trouble with names, but pictures? Pictures make sense.)

"I do hope that Miss Hardbroom is treating you better," Mum says with righteous, motherly disdain.

"Oh, loads better." Mildred says, relaxing back into her seat, the picture of contentment. "She even called my Calming potion adequate today."

"Progress," Mum says, and Mildred gets the distinct feeling that Mum's not talking about her.

She eventually says her goodbyes, promises to eat better, and slips out of the mirrorbooth with her heart lighter, her head clearer. _Well,_ Mildred thinks, squaring her shoulders, if Mum doesn't have answers, _I guess the library will do._

A year ago, she would never have considered going to the library for answers. It was always too overwhelming for her; it was full of books and old manuscripts that made her feel like she didn't belong. Maud's little project changed that, however. It had taken a lot of trial and error, a lot of lost time spent looking up words, a lot of sleepless nights worrying over small details . . . but in the end, they had persevered. 

Now the library feels like a second home.

Mildred pulls books out at random. That's how she works. She finds interesting titles, colourful spines that catch her eye, and make a tower of them in a nearby table. "You've always been spontaneous," Maud told her once. "Stop second-guessing yourself and just go for it." So she does. It's not the most elegant way to research a topic. Maud is certainly a lot more organized than she is, but it makes reading books feel less like a mountain to overcome. 

She cracks open a book, examines the table of contents, gives a cursory glance at the index, and begins to separate her tower into various piles. The first set of books declare her incredibly ill, her symptoms apparently matching several deadly magical diseases as observed from the 1700s onwards. Mildred is fairly optimistic that she has none of these diseases, but she makes a note of them anyway just in case.

Miss Hardbroom finds her while she's going through her next stack of books, grumbling about scholars and their wildly divisive opinions about magical puberty.

"And what, pray tell, are you up to now, Mildred Hubble?" 

She almost jumps out of her skin at the sound of that silky voice nearby. "Oh, Miss Hardbroom! I was just, y'know. Reading stuff."

"I had gathered as much." Mildred deflates under her severe stare, which earns her a sigh from Miss Hardbroom. "Child, it is almost lights out. I suggest you clean up and start heading back as soon as possible." She feels a hand on her shoulder and startles at the touch. "Whatever you are looking for—it will still be here in the morning."

She returns to her attic tower, no less closer to solving her dilemma but still feeling quite pleased.

"Where've you been?" Enid asks from her room, nibbling on some cookies her parents had sent her a few days ago. 

"Been reading," Mildred says, grabbing a chocolate chip and sitting at the foot of her bed. "Where's Maud?"

"Studying." Enid nudges her with a socked foot. "You two are quite the pair, sneaking off without poor old Enid to _study_."

"I wasn't. I was just doing some personal research." 

"You mean about your family's coven?"

Mildred shakes her head, pigtails flying. "No. I just feel weird lately. Mum thinks it's crushes but I don't think so."

"What, like getting the funny tummies and stuff?" 

"Yeah, but I'm convinced it's probably magical puberty or something."

"You get crushes after magical puberty," Enid points out, grinning impishly. Mildred smacks her with a pillow and shoos her away, grumbling about crumbs. "Hey, I'm just trying to be helpful," she protests by the door.

"Be helpful somewhere else," Mildred says. "Begone foul witch!"

Enid disappears, heading for her bedroom. In the distance, Mildred hears her cry. "I'll show you foul!"

She hears the girls scream, "Enid!" and heads to bed, chuckling to herself.

* * *

She's nearly mauled the next morning by an over-eager Maud. "How come you didn't tell me that you've been researching," she demands, adjusting her glasses with a huff. 

"I mean it's only been a day." When that doesn't mollify Maud, she adds, "But you could help me later if you like."

Enid, arriving just in time, puts her two cents in, far too smug for having heard it first. "Mildred's got a crush."

"Is that so?" Ethel asks triumphantly a few tables down. Mildred glares at her and feels that familiar ache, that strange flutter in her stomach. Well, _bat dung_. "I pity the poor unlucky girl," Ethel says, the irony lost on her. "But who knows? Maybe you're made for each other. Live out the rest of your days in a tiny hovel, scaring small children away."

"Why, Ethel, it almost sounds like you're terrified of me," Mildred snipes back. 

"Only of your stupidity rubbing off on me."

Mildred wonders faintly, much too horrified at the thought, if this is what flirting sounds like. _No._ That can't be. Perhaps it's a curse after all? Or some kind of magical flu that's been making her feel warm and strange? Like she somehow wants Ethel's attention but in a stupid way. In a fighting way? With her luck, it's probably some variation of the Friendship Trap, except it looks like only Mildred is affected.

She makes a show of rolling her eyes and dragging her friends away, not wanting to voice her dilemma until she's sure that they're all alone. She doesn't get the chance to.

Miss Bat sees them loitering outside and ushers them to class before Mildred could so much as put a word in edgewise. She fumes with half-formed theories, and tries to make it through the rest of the day without making eye contact with Ethel again. 

_This is stupid,_ she thinks. _Me? In love with Ethel?_ It just doesn't make sense. She would sooner kiss a frog than that arrogant girl. At least they didn't try to get her expelled every other week. _But Ethel's changed now, hasn't she? Mellowed out a little like you said?_ No, no. That's no reason to like her now. There are other . . . _girls_ in school. Better-looking. Nicer. Surely it doesn't have to be _Ethel Hallow?_

But it's fun, isn't it? Making her mad?

She almost misses the cauldron entirely when she drops the diced arrow root in. She looks around furtively and sighs in relief when she doesn't see Miss Hardbroom glaring back at her.

"Mildred Hubble." That all-too familiar snarl. Oh well. She had almost made it through the day too, without incident. "Detention, after dinner."

"But she's done nothing wrong," Maud protests. "See, our Rust-removing Potion is almost done." She stirs the potion clockwise three times and adds a pinch of ground beetle horn, looking pointedly at the potion as it turns into a silvery blue shade. 

"I am well aware." She leaves Maud sputtering, and moves down the line to sneer at another girl's poor attempt, vanishing her cauldron of its contents before it eats through the pewter.

"She doesn't give Gloria detention when Gloria gets something wrong," Maud grumbles.

"Maybe she likes your company, Millie," Enid says, bumping shoulders with her.

Mildred looks skeptical. "Maybe." 

* * *

She makes her way to Miss Hardbroom’s potions lab after dinner, feeling a little more lost than usual. Miss Hardbroom usually gives her instructions before she arrives like, “Bring your knife set; we’ll be cutting up slugs today.” Or, “Wear something comfortable; we’re replenishing our stock of fire-flower and blackroot.” But no word this time.

She’s afraid of admitting it—mostly because she doesn’t want to embarrass HB—but she likes their detentions, likes the calm quiet that Miss Hardbroom exudes, or the way she turns every punishment into a learning opportunity. 

Still, this detention doesn’t sit well with her. Something about it doesn’t feel right.

For one thing, Miss Hardbroom is usually in the room by now before Mildred even enters.

“Mildred!” She jumps at the sound of her name and turns around, almost knocking into a cauldron. 

“M-Miss Pentangle?”

Miss Pentangle is perched on top of Miss Hardbroom’s desk, looking very much like a school girl about to cause trouble. “Hello, dear. It’s so good to see you.”

“Well met, Miss Pentangle.” Mildred grins and lets herself be pulled into a hug, all too happy to see the pink headmistress again. “What are you doing here? And where is Miss Hardbroom?”

Miss Pentangle Transfers them back into Mildred’s quarters and sits next to Mildred on her bed. “That’s the thing, Mildred. I asked dear Hecate if I could have a word with you, and here we are.”

“You wanted to talk to me about something?”

She smiles and taps Mildred's nose with a forefinger. “Hecate tells me that you’ve been worried about something lately. Perhaps, something about being magically ill?"

"Or magical puberty," Mildred grumbles. She picks up Tabby from one of his favourite spots and pulls him closer, letting his front paws settle on her shoulder. "Mum thinks I have a crush, but I don't know. Who'd have a crush on Ethel Hallow?" She squeaks and covers her mouth with one hand, blushing furiously.

"Who indeed?" Miss Pentangle's eyes soften, and Mildred gets the impression that she's not looking at her but at some far away memory. "You know, I almost envy you, Mildred."

"Me?" Mildred laughs and lets the rest of her torso fall on top of her bed. Tabby, disgruntled at the sudden movement, steps over her face to nap elsewhere. "I mean, it's Ethel Hallow! I'm half-convinced she's put a curse on me. I just haven't figured out how."

"Look on the bright side," Miss Pentangle says. "In a few months, you're heart will catch up with the rest of your head, and you'll discover that, no matter how charming Ethel is, she's still a nosy, prickly, arrogant witch."

Mildred laughs, delighted at her description, and grins up at her. "You're the best, Miss Pentangle."

Miss Pentangle gives a theatric half-bow. "I aim to please."

"How about you, Miss Pentangle? Did you ever have a crush while you were my age?"

"Oh plenty." She settles next to Mildred, and together, they stare at Mildred's ceiling, bat-free for the time being. "Nothing quite so devastating as the one I had on your Miss Hardbroom though."

"Miss Hardbroom!" 

Misunderstanding her tone, Miss Pentangle sighs. "You know, she's not as bad as you think, Mildred. Hecate is actually awfully sweet. Very thoughtful too. And she has such expressive hands. I just want to hold them all the time," she confides to Mildred in a whisper.

"That's so cute," Mildred whispers back, awed. "Oh, Miss Pentangle. Why can't I have _cute_ crushes?"

"Someday, Mildred Hubble, I'm sure you'll find someone as wonderful and as lovely as Hecate."

* * *

Now that Mildred knows, it's obvious that Miss Hardbroom likes Miss Pentangle back. It’s in the way she smiles at every small reminder (the letters, the flowers, the pieces of half-bitten pink pastries), wobbly and lightning-quick, or the way she reaches for her ring when she’s troubled. She’s also less quick with her punishments now, almost as if she’s listening to her students more, as if she’s found the key to understanding them better.

If Mildred has found her confidence in Miss Pentangle, Miss Hardbroom has found her calm. 

Oh she’s still irascible sometimes, her impatience giving way to a sharp tongue that always hits its mark. But Mildred thinks she can’t help it sometimes; when she explodes, it’s usually after things become too much. It’s like whenever Mildred has to read a really dense book, and there are too many words that she doesn’t understand all at once. Maybe, sometimes, Miss Hardbroom just has a hard time being on the same page as everyone else because she’s too busy processing a lot of things too. It’s just too bad that Mildred is like a difficult word for her, probably the kind that requires historical context to fully understand. 

But that’s why you make the effort right?

And HB—she does try.

It’s too bad really, that none of her piecemeal revelations prepare her for what Miss Hardbroom does next.

“You’re pairing me with Mildred Hubble?” Ethel growls, her disgust ringing clear.

“This project is an important part of your grade. Therefore, I’ve made it a point to pair our best students with our worst.”

“And of course the smartest gets the dead weight,” Ethel continues to grouse, her words harsher than usual. 

“Who said you were the smartest?” Miss Hardbroom twists her lips in a wicked smile, pointedly looking at Maud who’s been paired with Gloria. She arches an eyebrow at Mildred as if to say, “Your turn,” and walks away. 

_She knows,_ Mildred thinks, horrified. _She knows and she’s playing matchmaker at me!_

She wants to be angry with HB—wants to tell her not to meddle with her love life. But all she can muster is some measure of exasperation, and a feeling like the world is finally paying her back for meddling with Miss Bat’s love life _that one time_.

She sits next to Ethel and looks at her, all too aware of Ethel’s fingers drumming a war tattoo, her skin flushed with anger. Mildred wonders if she’s as sharp as she acts, or if all those perceived angles would soften under her touch. 

"Remember that time we were stuck in a Friendship Trap, Ethel?" Mildred asks, letting her mouth get the better of her.

"I'd really rather not."

"Look on the bright side," Mildred says, grinning from ear to ear, "at least we're not literally stuck together this time!"

Ethel levels her a glare that leaves Mildred's heart fluttering. _She snores!_ _Remember that?_ Mildred thinks, desperate to find some kind of leverage over her feelings. _And she's mean and awful._

_Why can't I have reasonable crushes?_

* * *

It's a sad day indeed, when your favourite teacher turns against you.

Ethel has always looked up to Miss Hardbroom. She's everything Ethel wants to be when she grows up: powerful, well-regarded—someone who embodies the Craft and what it’s meant to be, not what it is now. There’s an elegance to Miss Hardbroom that Ethel hopes to imitate, a confidence that makes her seem infallible.

But even teachers make mistakes.

Mildred is all arms and limbs and animated curiosity, taking up Ethel's space: a whirlwind of energy seeking to be anchored. She is chaotic and frustratingly effervescent, unable to be pinned down. Ethel itches to cast a spell on her, knows that she can't, and settles for asserting her control. 

"I will choose the potion," she tells Mildred, sitting as far as she possibly could from the girl while still sharing a table with her. "You will do as I say, learn the steps, and we will go our separate ways."

"Okay." Mildred pulls several folders out of her school bag and poises, a study in contained action.

“I don’t care what your skill level is; we’re going to be ambitious,” Ethel forges on. "This potion will require precision, a complete understanding of the basics"—she senses movement in front of her and bristles—"what are you doing, Mildred Hubble?"

Mildred freezes at Ethel's voice and gives her a guilty smile, caught in the midst of collecting her notes which have spilled everywhere. "Oh, sorry. There was a huge gust of wind you see, a-and. . . ." She braces herself for Ethel's anger, creasing her notes. 

Ethel lets out a long-suffering sigh. "There's a book, _Advanced Potion-Making_ ," she says evenly, "by Lucinda Blackwood. I assume you'll find it in the potions section. There's an appendix on brewing at different temperatures; it's much more informative than what our textbooks have. I suggest you start there while I clean up your mess."

It's really unfair, that even like this Mildred finds something to be excited about. She places her notes on the table, pulls out a fresh sheet from her bag, and rushes off, her heavy footsteps adding to Ethel's growing headache.

Ethel picks up a page and almost drops it again. The illustrations are beautiful—an exquisite mastery of lines that could only have been possible with a steady hand. She collates the pages together, and discovers a second sheaf of papers, largely undisturbed, on the floor. Unlike the first set of notes, these ones have been painstakingly copied from their third-year textbook, with compact letters written in the margins.

_2-3 pods acceptable; HB says we use 3 to compensate for possible mistakes._

_3? Odd #'s often used as stabilizers for potions. Even creates prolonged tension. Good for potions that have opposing stuff that need to draw each other's qualities out._

Ethel flips through the rest and finds similar notes that she's sure they've never gone over in class. One strikes her in particular.

_Ethel always has useful info. She's so smart!!! I should listen to her more._

Ethel feels the heat of her blush on her neck and on her ears, and puts the pages on the table, taking a step back as if burned. She frowns and shakes her head. "I can't believe I'm stuck with an idiot," she grumbles, and pulls her ribbon loose. "Pierce a hole and make it wider. Ribbon weave like silk of spider. Bind these pages, bind them tight. Let them shine like stars at night." She watches with satisfaction as her ribbon does the job, stitching the pages together like a legal pad.

Next she summons one of her empty journals—a gift from Esme—and drops the thick, hard cover notebook on top of Mildred’s notes. “Yours now,” she scribbles on the front page and leaves before she can reconsider. 

* * *

There's a certain comfort that Mildred finds in having company while she studies. It brings her in the present moment—helps her focus when there is too much going on. 

She learns best when Maud is around to correct her, and Enid is around to supplement her understanding with hilarious tales of mishap and mayhem. Now she has Ethel too, overachiever that she is.

"What _are_ your friends up to?" Ethel asks, scowling at Enid and Maud who are sitting a few tables down, hidden behind a stack of books.

"They think you're up to something," Mildred says, smiling fondly at her. "They saw what you did to my notes. Plus, they're still trying to figure out how you made my notes glow. It's helped me loads."

"Your notes were a nuisance. I won't have them fluttering about when we have so much work to do." Ethel sighs, exasperated that she has to defend herself at all. "Look, I just want to win this." She lifts her chin and sneers. "I want to win back Miss Hardbroom's approval, and you're going to help me whether you like it or not."

"Hey, it's my grade too. You don't have to be so defensive about it."

"I can take that journal back."

Mildred gasps and clutches Ethel's gift close to her chest. "You wouldn't!"

Ethel's lips twitch upwards. She returns to her book and waves her hand dismissively. "Their concern for you is sweet but distracting. Call them off."

"Hear that, Maud?" Enid finds a seat next to Mildred and shuffles closer. "Ethel thinks we're sweet."

"Lovely." Maud dumps an armful of books next to Ethel's things. "It's almost as if she finds us tolerable." 

"Mildred," Ethel hisses.

"Yes, Ethel?"

"I _hate_ you."

* * *

Mildred likes to think that she's got this dumb crush thing under control. Ethel is less of a pain now, too busy revising and making adjustments to their potion to be a real nuisance. Mildred, on the other hand, is swamped with work, learning how to cut and measure ingredients in ways she never thought was important until now. It's something to do, and it keeps her mind off silly scenarios that she certainly Has Not Spent Time Thinking About.

"Pay attention," Ethel commands, more out of habit than real irritation. Their presentation is in a few days and of course, Ethel wants everything to be perfect. "Recite the nine ingredients we'll need for the Fire Resistance Potion."

She does, feeling a sense of satisfaction when Ethel nods in approval. "The one we'll be using on our clothes is a variation," Mildred adds. "The silk harvested from the cocoon of a fire silk moth instead of the bottled breath of a will-o'-wisp. We'll need fresh ashleaf instead of dried, and all the ratios will be different to accommodate surface and volume differences."

"Don't forget heat," Ethel says. "We have to do the Fireproof Spell first because we have to brew that one at a lower temperature."

"Right, right." Mildred toys with her pen, searching for something to say that won't draw Ethel's ire. "You know, you're not so bad at this stuff. Teaching, I mean."

"If you're looking for a tutor, Mildred Hubble—"

Mildred laughs and waves her hand. "No, no. Maud would feel betrayed if I go to you first. She's got best friend privileges after all."

"I see tutoring you now is a privilege," Ethel drawls.

"That's not what I meant at all!" Trust Ethel to twist her words. Mildred hooks an arm around her shoulders and grins. "Look, I just think you've got a knack for teaching—when you're not so stuck on who's better and who isn't anyway."

"Well I'm sorry I'm not perfect," Ethel snaps, pulling away. Her shoulders are tense, her gaze downcast. She's furious and defensive, though Mildred isn't sure why. "Leave me alone, Mildred Hubble." She executes a perfect Transference spell (of course), and disappears before Mildred could say another word. 

Mildred presses the curve of her palms against her eyes and takes a deep breath. _This is stupid,_ she thinks and hunts for Ethel’s magic in the air. She can’t Transfer after her, but at least she can find her, and then she’ll—what, exactly? Apologize for opening her big mouth? 

She finds Ethel holed up in her room and tries the door. “Whatever part of ‘leave me alone’ don’t you get, Mildred?” Ethel asks.

“I guess I’m just not good at following instructions,” Mildred says, pushing against the door and pressing her face comically against the ancient oak profile. “Please, Ethel, can we talk about this?”

“I’ve no time for dimwits like you.”

Mildred hears a rumbling purr and feels Nightstar brushing against her ankle. The black cat seems to be shepherding her away from the door before turning his attention towards it, eyes inscrutable. He brushes against the frame a few times before reaching for the handle with his front paws.

“Sorry, Nightstar, but Ethel”—Nightstar opens the door easily and steps inside, tail flicking once, as if an invitation—“what?” 

She immediately scrambles to get inside before Ethel could lock the door again.

“Traitor,” Ethel grumbles, but doesn’t push Nightstar away when he jumps onto her lap, looking far too smug.

“Did you know that they could do that?” Mildred asks, still stunned at the sight of Nightstar _doing magic_.

“Please. The cats are far more competent than we are at working spells. They’re just lazy about it.”

“Your cat is magic,” Mildred murmurs. “ _My_ cat is magic.”

“Yes, yes. We’re all made of magic and stardust,” Ethel says dismissively. “Why are you here, Mildred Hubble? Why do you seek to needlessly antagonize me? It’s not like I’ll sabotage our project. I don’t do things like that anymore, remember?”

“I was just trying to be nice.”

“By reminding me that I’m bad at being good?”

“I was trying to compliment you.” Mildred crosses her arms and tries not to think about Ethel’s scrutiny and how it makes her stomach do backflips. “Do you always see the worst in me?”

"Do you?" Ethel demands. 

"No!" Mildred surges forward and sits next to Ethel, placing her hands gently over Nightstar's fur, close enough to touch Ethel's hands, but far enough that she could pull away at any moment. "You're the bats, Ethel. You're always so sure of yourself and you're so brilliant at everything that you do. I wish I had half your confidence."

"You really believe that, don't you?" 

Mildred takes a deep breath. “Plus you got me that journal when you didn’t have to.”

“You were writing on every piece of paper that you could find. I was doing you a favour.”

“Exactly.” Mildred loves that journal so much. It’s black, it’s classy, and best of all, it doesn’t make a mess of her inks when she’s using a quill to write notes. Print paper is fine, and that’s what she’s been using, but some of her notebooks had not survived past her first year at Cackle’s. It made her feel like a proper witch, and it’s one of her most treasured gifts from her friends. “So can you really say that you’re bad at being good?”

She’s never seen Ethel this conflicted before. Like she maybe sort of wants to strangle Mildred but also thank her too? “I didn’t do that to be nice to you. I mean, I don’t _feel_ nicer. I still kind of wish you hadn’t gotten in.”

It hurts to hear Ethel’s honest opinion, but Mildred doesn’t want her to stop now, not when she’s finally making progress with getting Ethel to open up. “Am I still that bad?”

Ethel makes an exasperated noise and shakes her head. “It’s not who you are now that’s the problem, Mildred. It just drives me so mad when I think about how a lot of awful things could have been avoided if I had never met you.” Ethel slumps back and leans against Mildred, all the fight going out of her body. “All I want is for things to get better. For people to stop looking at me like I’m the worst witch at school.” 

“Hey.” Mildred reaches for Ethel’s hand and tangles their fingers together. “I’m sorry about the past. But, Ethel, there’s still so much to look forward to. Let’s just promise to make better memories here on out.”

Ethel snorts. “Please, let’s go for something a little bit more realistic.”

“Promise not to be mean to me?”

“Utterly impossible.”

Mildred pouts and gives Ethel her best puppy dog impression. “Please, Ethel? I’ll share some of Enid’s baked goods with you?”

“Hallows are above bribery.” 

“I’ll tell you all of the Prefect gossip that Maud gets to hear as Head of Year?”

Ethel looks down at her coolly. “You drive a hard bargain, Hubble.” 

* * *

The air smells of incense sticks and dried flowers, a drop of petrichor chased away by heavier, more complex scents wafting from identical cauldrons. Mildred twists out of Ethel’s way and dips a crinkled ashleaf in the cauldron, using a pair of tongs to lower it carefully into the simmering liquid. She waits the thirty seconds that it takes for the potion to absorb the ashleaf’s properties before she takes it away, leaving it on top of her chopping board so that she can cut it into pieces (length-wise, thinly-cut).

Everything is second nature to her by now, every motion practised to perfection, every ingredient clear in her mind. She’s playing an instrument as much as she is brewing a potion, and the music that fills her ears calms her nerves, leaves her hands steady, precise. 

When she is done, Ethel is right there, waiting for her, a question in her eyes. Mildred wipes the sweat on her brow and nods decisively. 

“We’re ready.”

Mildred looks past her and sees Miss Hardbroom clearly for the first time. She’s at a loss for words, and Mildred thinks that this is perhaps the first time she’s seen Miss Hardbroom pleasantly surprised at a potion she’s made. 

Ethel summons a ring of fire in the middle of class, secured within a protective circle that they had etched earlier into the stone floor with chalk made of ground chilldust. She drinks the Fire Resistance potion first and sprinkles the other potion over her, saying the words to the spell clearly: “Silk of moth, leaf of ash, quell the fire, let it clash, against the strength of each thread and stitch, nothing shall burn not cloth nor witch.” 

After Mildred has done the same, Ethel reaches for her hand and leads her into the open flames.

Their presentation is an overwhelming success. 

It’s the first time that Mildred receives a perfect mark from Miss Hardbroom, and her whispered praise leaves Mildred feeling like she can take on the world. She goes to hug Maud and then Enid, sharing in their easy joy, before turning towards Ethel, catching her arm just as she’s about to return to her seat. “You’re an amazing teacher, Ethel.”

Ethel smiles. “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

Mildred watches her go, chest warm with Ethel’s approval. She’s still not sure about this stupid crush thing—their shared history is always going to be a sore spot between them—but she thinks maybe it’s not so bad, being friends with Ethel at least.

And she does like to see Ethel smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, cut content can be found on my [tumblr](https://executeghost.tumblr.com/post/177744696124/you-know-shes-not-as-bad-as-you-think-mildred).


End file.
